


Throwing Stars

by samsammun



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 13:17:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16493309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samsammun/pseuds/samsammun
Summary: Some days are harder than others. Sometimes we need to be reminded of our impact on others.





	Throwing Stars

 

_Once upon a time, there was a wise man who used to go to the ocean to do his writing. He had a habit of walking on the beach before he began his work._

 

The office is bustling when Detective Reed enters, having just come back from a particularly gruesome homicide. The people around pay him little attention; his unpleasant attitude was far from a surprise for most of them.

 

_One day, as he was walking along the shore, he looked down the beach and saw a human figure moving like a dancer. He smiled to himself at the thought of someone who would dance to the day, and so he walked faster to catch up._

 

Reed plops himself down into his chair and turns his terminal back on. He lets his leg bounce with energy and does little to conceal his frustration. Coworkers give him a wider berth than usual today.

 

_As he got closer, he noticed that the figure was that of a young man, and that what he was doing was not dancing at all. The young man was reaching down to the shore, picking up small objects, and throwing them into the ocean._

 

As he works through the report, the detective stews in his irritation.

 

_He came closer still and called out “Good morning! May I ask what it is that you are doing?”_

 

No matter how many cases he closes, no matter how fast he catches the murderers, he is still thrown back to square one on the next case. His job is to clean up the mess after it’s already been made. He does it damn well too, if his own bias can be overlooked.

 

_The young man paused, looked up, and replied “Throwing starfish into the ocean.”_

 

But it’s never enough. They will never stop. It’s only on rare occasions that he actually has a chance to save someone, the random serial killer that happens to pop up in Detroit.

 

_“I must ask, then, why are you throwing starfish into the ocean?” asked the somewhat startled wise man._

 

By the end of the hour, he has so much pent up rage he is itching to send his fist flying into someone’s face. He quickly stands up and stalks into the break room, b-lining for the coffee machine. When Gavin sits back down at his desk, he notices the pinging sound of an email notification. Maybe it’s about that search warrant he’d applied for on another case. When he opens it, he freezes.

 

_To this, the young man replied, “The sun is up and the tide is going out. If I don’t throw them in, they’ll die.”_

 

“Good afternoon Detective,” it read. He skims over it the first time, rushing to the end of the letter. He rereads it several times. Four sentences stick out to him. “You might not remember me, and this sounds silly to me even as I’m typing this out, but you saved me and my brother five years ago.” “I’m now a graduate with a bachelor of science in medicine.” “Without you, I would not be here. Thank you.”

 

_Upon hearing this, the wise man commented, “But, young man, do you not realize that there are miles and miles of beach and there are starfish all along every mile? You can’t possibly make a difference!”_

 

He huffs out a disbelieving sigh and sits back in his chair. Warmth spreads through his chest like roots. He reads it once more and has to discreetly cover the smile sneaking onto his face.

 

_At this, the young man bent down, picked up yet another starfish, and threw it into the ocean. As it met the water, he said, “It made a difference for that one.”_

 

Maybe this job wasn’t so bad...

**Author's Note:**

> The italicized text is adapted from “The Star Thrower” by Loren Eiseley (1907-1977).


End file.
